After the Fall
by Satan Abraham
Summary: They're all dead, but if this is an afterlife, it sure is a weird one. There will be slash. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter One: Dead

He was dead.

Peter McVries, number sixty-one, was the ninety-eighth to fall.

There was no transition period, just a jarring change from the dusty Maine roads to an odd cobbled street. It was dark. There was no light, save for the moonlight and the random light shining through the cracks between the shutters on the houses that flanked the road.

With nothing better to do, Peter got up and began to walk.

The weird part about this place was the complete lack of noise, save for his feet hitting the stones. His feet felt better now, he noticed. In fact, he felt better as a whole. A little hungry, but other than that, he felt completely fine.

Seeing as he was alone, he let his mind wander. Who had won? Stebbins or Ray? He had a feeling it was Stebbins. Stebbins winning was almost a certainty, because Ray Garraty was just a hundred-and-sixty pound boy from Maine. Stebbins was… well, Stebbins was the rabbit.

There was a nice-looking area up ahead – it looked green and grassy from what he could see. There was also someone in there – a small figure slumped against a tree. McVries glanced around, decided that there was nothing better to do, and headed for the place.

Once he got closer, he saw who it was.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "It's Barkovitch."

It was Barkovitch. He was sleeping, thank God – if he wasn't he'd be unbearably annoying. As it was, the prick looked remarkably childlike and vulnerable. McVries's hate for Barkovitch was overridden by a memory of his death – the death that no-one should have to go through, even someone like Barkovitch. Even though his last words had given McVries a headache.

Barkovitch shifted, like he could feel someone watching him sleep. McVries debated leaving, then decided that being with Barkovitch was better than being alone. He had no idea where he was – better stick with someone he knew than be completely alone, possibly for the rest of his time here. Who knew? Barkovitch could be the only other Walker here.

Okay, that was a depressing thought.

Barkovitch decided to wake up then, yawning and still looking incredibly childlike. "Scarface?" he asked, standing up. McVries thought about punching him in the face, just because he was an annoying little prick, but refrained. Again with the 'possible only other Walker here.' He didn't want to be alone just because he'd made a stupid mistake, like had happened so many times before.

"Killer," McVries said. They stood in a slightly awkward silence, Barkovitch crossing his arms and leaning against a tree, McVries glancing around every few moments. "Have you seen any others?"

"Nope," Barkovitch said. "Found this place and fell asleep as soon as I got here. Christ, I'm hungry. You know who won?"

McVries blinked. Weirdly enough, Barkovitch was being sort of… not annoying. "No… either Garraty or Stebbins."

Barkovitch snorted. "Stebbins then."

McVries, though he silently agreed, glared at Barkovitch. Barkovitch didn't seem bothered, and instead yawned. How on earth was he still tired? He'd been sleeping for God knows how long under that tree.

"Hey!"

That had to be Parker. McVries turned around and, sure enough, Collie Parker was jogging toward them, grinning.

"If it isn't McVries and Barkobitch having a civil conversation," he said. "Thought the day'd never come."

"_Barkobitch?"_

"Yeah. Figured if this bastard can give you a nickname, so can I. I'm more creative, though-"

"All you did was replace one letter."

"But creatively."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Make me-"

"Okay, okay, you're both queer for each other, can we move on?" McVries said, sighing. Two pairs of angry eyes turned on him.

"What- I'm not-" Barkovitch sputtered. Parker looked like he was about to hit McVries.

"_Him?" _

"You're one to talk, look at you and that dumb hick Garraty," Barkovitch said. "If there's anyone that's queer, it's you."

* * *

Olson had put his past life fully behind him.

He'd traded in his clothes for some clothes from this place – this weird place that didn't seem to be an afterlife, really, but he knew it was. He was dead. He'd seen his guts fall out on the road, he'd felt the bullets enter his body, no matter how dulled his senses had been back then. Yes, he was dead, and by now all the others had to be as well.

He'd been mostly alone, at first. And then he'd met Alexis.

Alexis didn't know anything about the regular world. She lived on her own, and she was a lot like Olson. He spent much of his time telling her stories of the other world, just so he wouldn't forget.

It was dark now. Night came quickly – it always did. One minute it was light, the next it was pitch black. Olson stared out the window while Alexis got ready to go to sleep. She had work early every morning, so she went to bed much earlier than Olson did. Olson usually sat up for a few hours, watching for people he knew out the window. He knew it was unlikely that they'd come stumbling this way, far away from the town, but there was always the chance.

It looked like the chance was now. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that Rank was wandering around out there.

"I'll be right back," he said. Alexis nodded.

"Don't get hurt."

Rank was not in a good mood. Olson, who really wasn't that good at calming people down, promised Rank that, yes, they'd find Barkovitch and yes, Rank could beat the shit out of him, yes, he could do that.

"You can sleep in the stable," Olson said. Rank, to his surprise, didn't object and went rather peacefully.

"Was that one of your walking friends?" Alexis asked.

"You could say that."

* * *

"The prince has arrived!"

Stebbins, who had no idea what was going on, was the prince. As soon as he'd died and ended up in this strange world, he'd been hailed as 'Prince Stebbins of Nusquam' and now he was feasting.

It was a rather odd experience, now that he thought about it.

* * *

**This is one of the three multi-chaptered fics I have yet to finish.**


	2. Chapter Two: Truth

When Gary Barkovitch woke up, he was curled up next to Collie Parker.

He was completely unsure of what to do.

On one hand, he could very speedily slip away and hope that nobody ever noticed. Or he could pretend that he'd never woken up. Or he could wake up Parker and ask him what the hell he was doing, hugging Barkovitch to him like that. Very tightly, too. Barkovitch could barely breathe.

Parker muttered in his sleep and rolled onto his side, taking Barkovitch with him. Barkovitch ended up on top of Parker, faced with a whole new series of options.

A – wake Parker up and die

B – stay here and pretend to sleep and die

C – wait until Scarface woke up and get laughed at. Then die.

Well those were _great_ options.

Parker rolled over again, this time crushing Barkovitch under him. Okay, he probably had to wake Parker up now or suffocate.

"Parker- Par- _Blondie!" _Barkovitch hissed, struggling. Parker yawned, but didn't move. "_Blondie, wake up!"_

Parker did wake up.

He also saw Barkovitch underneath him and promptly hit him in the face.

"Ow!" Barkovitch said. He tasted blood. "Fuck, Blondie, that hurt!"

"What are you doing?"

"What am _I_ doing? You're on top of me! I can't breathe!"

Parker rolled off of him and Barkovitch gasped for air. McVries, who had just woken up, laughed.

"Not queer for each other, you say-"

"Shut it Scarface."

* * *

Christopher Rank was not a very bright boy, and that was one of the few things he understood.

The other things he understood were how to hurt someone – hurt someone _bad – _and who to hurt. He understood that he probably couldn't take on someone like Scramm or Parker. But he could beat Hank Olson or the prick he was planning on killing, Gary Barkovitch.

Olson was scared of him. He'd understood that when Olson shoved him in this stable to sleep. Rank decided that this was okay, this was okay, Olson had promised him Barkovitch.

And if Olson didn't keep good on his promise, well…

* * *

If Stebbins said he wasn't enjoying himself, he would be lying.

He was a _prince_. He got everything he wanted when he wanted it. He had servants, one of whom was Pearson. He also had a person who wrote down everything he said – Harkness. Other than those two, he hadn't seen anyone else from the walk.

But who cared? He had food, fancy clothes, a comfortable bed, a fantastic life… why should he be worrying about any of them? Sure, maybe they were sleeping outside, getting into fights with each other. He'd heard that Hank Olson lived with Alexis the Seer. There had been rumors of a small, darkish boy that lived in the Sacred Grove.

He didn't really care.

Let them live their lives, let him be a prince.

* * *

"I want to find Ray," McVries said. Barkovitch snorted.

"I want food," Barkovitch said. McVries glared at him, and the prick rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Scarface, nobody cares."

"As annoying as he is, Barkobitch has a point. I'm hungry, too," Parker said. He kept a good distance from Barkovitch, not forgetting the incident that morning. McVries smirked a little at the memory. Now that had been funny.

"Food, then your boyfriend," Barkovitch said.

"Who says you make the rules?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you're an annoying little-"

"You-"

"I'll fucking-"

"Okay, okay, _shut up_!" McVries said. While their arguing was amusing most of the time, it got really irritating when they wouldn't even let each other finish their sentences. Sure, McVries could guess what they were going to say, but it wasn't as fun.

"Would you stay out of this?" Barkovitch said. McVries had a feeling that both of them enjoyed the arguments.

* * *

"Ah, shit," Abraham muttered. Art Baker was standing a few feet away, looking beautiful, like always.

Abraham wasn't queer. Or, he hadn't been, until the Walk.

Damn Art Baker.

He'd thought that he might be able to escape the kid's beauty here, but there he was. Abe needed to get out of there before he turned around and-

"Abraham?"

Damn it.

"Hey, Art," Abraham said. Baker looked relieved.

"I haven't seen anyone else from the Walk," Baker said. God, he was beautiful. Abraham dug his fingernails into his palm to quell the urge to leap on the boy and molest him.

…He hadn't just thought about molesting Baker.

"Yeah, me neither," Abraham said. "I heard there was this Prince Stebbins guy, though – think it's the same one? You know, the weird kid in the purple pants?"

"Probably," Baker said, shrugging. "By the way, you still owe me-"

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

**And this is the last chapter I have written for this one. **

**But it will probably be continued someday.**


	3. Chapter Three: Rank

It took them a while to find food. By the time that they did end up finding a place that had some sort of food, Barkovitch had 'fainted' twice, stepped on the back of Collie Parker's shoes four times, and complained-slash-glared countless times.

Parker was about ready to snap and strangle the prick. He was like an annoying little kid, only older so it was socially acceptable to try to kill him. Why hadn't he thrown Barkobitch off of a bridge yet?

Oh yeah. Because there weren't any bridges and also because he was annoying McVries just as much as he was annoying Parker, and it was funny when it wasn't you.

And Parker had tripped Barkovitch more than once. Making up for all the times he couldn't do it on the Walk.

They sat down underneath a large tree not unlike the one that Barkovitch had been sleeping under when McVries found him once they had their food. Simple sandwiches – nothing that Parker had ever eaten before, but both him and McVries had gotten some sort of meat and Barkovitch had gotten something that roughly resembled peanut butter and jelly.

He was more like an annoying little kid than Parker had originally thought. Christ, he was even sitting like a little kid, legs crossed and slouched over.

Parker shook Barkovitch out of his thoughts and turned to McVries.

"So. We're looking for your boyfriend next," he said. McVries turned slightly pink. "You're sure he didn't win?"

"That's a stupid question," Barkovitch muttered around his peanut butter and jelly – or whatever it was. "Of course he didn't win."

Parker hit him on the back of the head and turned back to McVries. "We're being optimistic. I don't wanna waste my time if he's not even fucking here, y'know?"

"There's no way he beat Stebbins," McVries said. He was staring at the ground, letting his sandwich go untouched. He didn't even notice when Barkovitch crept up and stole it. "No way he beat the unbeatable God in purple pants."

"Purple pants," Parker said, grinning a little. "What a fucking weirdo- don't touch my food, Barkobitch."

Barkovitch moved back to where he was sitting before. McVries looked down and realized that his sandwich was missing. "You little…"

Barkovitch just looked at him. Parker looked at McVries too, wondering if he was actually going to do something or just try to look threatening. Which he was sort of completely failing at.

"Okay, so," Parker said, after a few minutes' pause. "What are we doing now?"

* * *

"Pearson!"

Pearson turned, a bit wary. It was just Harkness emerging from the door, grin on his face and scroll by his side. There were no notebooks in this weird place – it was medieval, almost. "Hey," Pearson said, shifting from foot to foot.

"Christ, this is weird, isn't it?" Harkness said. "I mean, Stebbins – er, Prince Stebbins, got _second _place. Second. Who won, d'ya spose?"

Pearson shrugged. "Baker, maybe?" he guessed. "Parker?"

"McVries or Garraty?"

Pearson thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Neither of them could've won. I mean, I died before either of them, but… no. Baker or Parker for sure."

* * *

Olson was having a slightly hard time restraining Rank. It was daytime now – there were people wandering around, and Rank was highly violent, even to random, blameless citizens. Olson basically had to follow Rank where he went and apologize to everyone they ran into.

Was that… Abraham? He could see a red-haired head bobbing above the rest – people here were a bit shorter than average, and Abraham was a bit taller than average – and right next to him was a blond. Baker?

What were they doing together?

They weren't friends… were they? Why would they be friends? Abraham was that ginger freak and Baker was… well… Baker was…

Shit, there went Rank.

He was heading for (probably) Abraham and Baker. He followed as they turned down an alley – Olson followed as well, muttering 'sorry' as he ran into and around people. He caught up just in time to see Rank grab Baker and force him to the ground.

Both Olson and Abraham shouted a protest at the same time. Olson leapt onto Rank's back and got a tight grip around his neck while Abraham shoved him away from Baker, who looked stunned.

It was then when Olson realized that he should probably get away from Rank now before he was brutally murdered. He let go and darted to stand behind Abraham, who was standing in front of Baker in a slightly protective, slightly 'I'm chill as fuck' stance.

"Have you seen him?" Rank snarled. Abraham and Baker looked confused. Olson clarified.

"Barkovitch."

"Oh, no," Baker said, shaking his head. Bruises were beginning to appear on his neck – they were very faint, Olson could only notice them because he was so incredibly close to Baker.

Speaking of which, he should probably take a few steps back.

Rank looked at them suspiciously and left. Olson took a deep breath, and the two turned to look at him. Abraham did not look very happy to see him, but Baker didn't look too bothered. Thank God.

"It's a good thing you showed up when you did," Baker said. "Otherwise-"

"Nothing woulda happened," Abraham said. "You've got me."

Baker looked at him. "Oh. Right."

Olson couldn't help but smirk at Abraham, who glared.

This was going to be a fun time.

* * *

"A tournament," Stebbins said. Harkness went to work immediately, scribbling down his words. "I will host a tournament. To see who the strongest man in this place is."

"Right," Harkness said. He'd already been an extremely quick writer, but he was getting to phenomenal speeds. "I'll tell Pearson to spread the word. Uh, your majesty."

Stebbins couldn't help but let a small grin cross his face. He was really enjoying this 'prince' thing. He was enjoying it quite a bit.

"Your majesty!"

Ah, it was the captain of his guard, Davidson. He was extraordinarily handsome, wasn't he? Even his acne had cleared up, and that had been his only flaw. Stebbins marveled in his beauty for a few more moments, then realized that Davidson was waiting for an answer.

"Yes, Davidson?" Stebbins asked. Davidson grinned a large, uncomplicated smile.

"Could I enter? I could have Baker – James Baker – take charge of the guard…" Davidson trailed off, a hopeful look on his face.

Stebbins nodded.

Davidson grinned again and looked like he wanted to hug Stebbins.

To Stebbins's disappointment, he didn't.

* * *

**I do really like writing this fic. :) Also Stebbins x Davidson. It is now a thing. All of the Walkers will appear in this at one time or another, however minor. They'll be at least mentioned. **


	4. Chapter Four: Parker and Abraham

"Alright. Just hold still," Davidson said. His new target – er, sparring partner, looked a bit nervous about doing this, but he wasn't the one hoping to win the tournament. Davidson was. If Davidson won, he would have fame, riches, glory… and Stebbins's attention. Prince Stebbins was a bit weird, but he was attractive. Very, very attractive.

And Davidson could appreciate attractive.

Immediately after dying, Davidson had been approached by a man that said that he would teach Davidson all he needed to know in three days. Davidson, who had been confused and lost, accepted. After teaching Davidson the basics of being a guard and also some political things that Davidson had basically ignored, the man had gotten Davidson a job as captain of the guard. That had been just before Stebbins had appeared as the new prince.

Now Davidson was sparring with this kid – Percy, he thought, the one with the mom that wouldn't leave him alone – in preparation for the tournament. Harkness had given him the rule sheet and let him sign up early. There would be four categories – swordfighting, archery, fistfighting… and just a simple, one-on-one conversation with the prince himself.

This would be incredibly easy, but he really should keep practicing.

"Can we…" Percy gasped after about twenty minutes. "Take a break?"

"Fine," Davidson said. "I want to check out to see who else has signed up, anyway. Wait here. I'll be back in ten."

He walked back into the castle and wandered around for a bit until he ran into Harkness. "Harkness! Who else has signed up."

"Technically, I'm not allowed to give out this information, but…" Harkness trailed off. Davidson just looked at him, and he shrugged. "Fine. I'll show you the entries."

Davidson grinned and followed Harkness to his office, where Harkness dug out a stack of paper. "Most of these are non-Walkers – people who sort of 'fill in' this world for us. But I've got a few… ah, here's one. Collin – he has Collie written down first, but it's been crossed out – Parker. And… James Abraham and Henry Olson," Harkness paused, digging around a little more. "Oh, this is interesting. Christopher Rank."

"Rank was the guy that Barkovitch 'killed', right?" Davidson asked. Harkness nodded. "Anyone else?"

"Nope," Harkness said. He glanced outside. "Shit, I've gotta run. See you later."

"Yeah," Davidson said, chewing on his bottom lip. "See you later."

…

Abraham was not having a good afterlife.

It had started out okay, finding Baker and all. But then _Olson_ had showed up, and Olson… Abraham didn't like him. He never had. He didn't know why, but Olson had just always irritated the fuck out of him. And now the bastard was stealing Baker.

So Abraham had decided to sign up for the weird tournament thing. If he won, then Baker would have to notice that he was so much fucking better than Olson. But then Olson had signed up too, all while grinning at Baker. Baker had smiled back all cute-like, and now Abraham was walking behind them, arms crossed, slouching so that he didn't stick out so much. He was one of the tallest people in this stupid world, and he didn't want another Rank incident.

"_What is up with this goddam town?!"_

That voice.

That was… that was _Parker._

Fucking screw Baker and Olson, he needed to find his best friend of however the fuck long he'd been on that stupid Walk.

Abraham kept following the angry, profane voice of Collie Parker until he finally saw him. Him and McVries and Barkovitch, but that didn't matter. "Collie!" Abraham yelled. Parker turned around, saw him, and grinned.

Oh, fuck it. Abraham sprinted for him and hugged him. Well, it was more of a tackle-hug, really, except Parker was solid enough to just stumble back a little bit. Parker hugged him back, albeit a little hesitantly.

This probably looked – and felt, honestly – incredibly queer, but, to be honest, Abraham didn't really care. Him and Parker hadn't had as much of a friendship as Garraty and McVries, but it had been there. And now Abraham was hugging Parker, face buried in Parker's shoulder – it was a little awkward, Abraham was an inch or two taller than Parker – Parker's death replaying over and over in his mind. Parker's death had been one of the worst for Abraham. He was glad he hadn't had to see Baker die, but Parker… it had been all his fault. All his fault with his stupid 'do it on your own' thing. No help for anybody… God, he was stupid. He was stupid. He was an idiot.

"You okay, Abe?"

Abraham shook his head free of those thoughts and pulled away. "Fine," he said. Parker and him grinned at each other in a brief, uncomplicated moment, and then Baker and Olson caught up.

"If you two are quite done…" Olson drawled, and Abraham shot a glare at him.

"Shut the fuck up," Parker said angrily.

"So, should we head somewhere?" McVries asked. "I mean, we've got to find a place to stay. I don't feel like camping out again."

…

They ended up getting a room at an inn. Olson produced money and they ended up splitting into three groups, one group a room, one group a bed. Olson and Baker claimed the first one, Parker and Abraham the second one, and, after much muttering and annoyance, McVries and Barkovitch took the last.

As soon as Parker and Abraham got into their room, Parker turned to him. "Okay, Abe, what's wrong. I coulda fucking swore you and Baker were a thing. What's this shit with Olson?"

Abraham shrugged, managing a sort-of smile. It looked more like a grimace. "Olson's just a better guy, I guess," he said. Parker scowled.

"He's a fucking asshole," he said. "Baker'll be sick of him in a week. You and Baker will get back together."

"We never were together," Abraham said. "I just…" He trailed off, unsure what to say. Parker nodded slowly. "It's nothing."

"Like hell it's nothing," Parker said. "But we should get to sleep. I'd love to stay up all night and talk about… fuckin' feelings with you, but I'm tired as hell."

Abraham nodded and the two stripped to their underwear and got into bed. It was a smallish bed, and cold, so they ended up closer than they'd imagined they would. Abraham didn't really mind – Parker was incredibly warm, and was able to doze off quite quickly, using Parker as a pillow.

* * *

**don't ask me what the ships in this are because i have no idea**


End file.
